phosfate

Mary and I once rented Roadhouse because after all the jokes about it on MST we thought it'd be a bad movie laugh riot, and instead we ended up sad and vulnerable and afraid. And the only redeeming feature of my class song list is that it doesn't have any Sheena Easton. (God, "Red Red Wine"--all the indie-rock fucks at my college professed to love that one, and the whiny whiny vocal nearly drove me to homicide.)